


MACUSA 99, Baby!

by Racelett



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Humor, Brooklyn99kinda!AU, Credence is a shy idiot and Graves is an oblivious idiot, Fluff and Dumb Stuff, Multi, gets fluffier and dumber with time, starts a bit dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-04 18:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racelett/pseuds/Racelett
Summary: Deputy Comissioner Picquery delegates a new 'special' intern into Captain Graves' Police Office.And after a bit of persuasion it's not like he's got a problem (read: choice) with it, although, well, the young man named Credence Barebone has something to him, and why is Tina giving him the look™ these days more frequently?Also Queenie please stop smiling at me after every conversation we have about Credence with that smile™ and YOU NEWT STOP ASKING ME IF I'M DATING HIM FOR GODS SAKE----------------------Graves, while staring into the camera™: "I am surrounded by idiots."----------------------More Infos inside!





	1. New Intern

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vacantb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacantb/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was written inspired by a thought of mine and fueled by a wonderful moodboard created by the lovely [vacantbloodbones](https://vacantbloodbones.tumblr.com)! Check out their Gradence!aestheatics, it's wonderful, and leave them a follow! They also have their own Fics!
> 
> \-----  
> I'll apologize in advance since my english isn't the smoothest, but I'll hope you'll have fun with these little episodes! Each Chapter will be around 1000 words, so I can smoothly write without getting into pressure or a slump.

A file is thrown lightly on his desk, between two empty coffee cups and a half eaten donut in a paper bag from Kowalski's. 

Graves eyebrows furrow, making him look even more disgruntled than he does usually.

"Good morning to you too, Picquery," he gruntles, while keeping his eyes on the documents of a recent case.

A hand falls much less gentle on the file on his desk, which makes Graves look up finally from his papers. Picquery's eyes show mild disapprovement and her mouth is drawn down on one side, like an exclamation mark undermining her mood.

Graves understands. Papers back on the stack right on his table he stands up, to show Deputy Comissioner Picquery the required respect in duty. Calling her Phinny during work has only happened once and oh boy, the storm it has caused. No one talks about it anymore, and keeps quiet with a doomed face when being asked about that day.

"What can I do for you, Comissioner Picquery?" It's always a bit strange calling her by her last name, and being called by his last name. Phinny - pardon - Picquery brings her hand back from the file, pointing on it. "You told me, you had problems with being understaffed recently. So I thought of a solution. You will be getting an intern starting next month, from the NYU. Criminal Justice Student."

Graves eyes Picquery. _Well what a fucking fuck._ His hands wander into his pockets. "So you're giving me a puppy? For what? So he can run around the office, hinder my detectives and interfere with important investigation work?" He takes the file from his desk, not even opening it. He doesn't need to bother with hatchlings running around his office, enough bullshit is going on around right now, they have too many cases open and way too less people, who could work on them. His last night was three hours of sleep. Tina and Newt got four. And Queenie, their lovely administrator, did she even got home last night? Who knows. 

But Picquery doesn't even make the slightest move to take the file out of Graves hand. Her eyes look steadily into Graves. "No buts. It's already decided."

"Decided? By whom? You may be comissioner, but who and IF I even take an intern is still my decision."

He takes a step forwards, cocking his heads to the side. "Correct me, if I'm wrong, but as it stands for now I am still Captain of this office. My office, my rules, and my decision who I allow to walk on these grounds." 

Seraphina Picquery looks a bit weary and tired in this moment. With a sigh she takes the file out of his hand, but instead of leaving his office - bickering with Graves is mostly a lost case, he's one stubborn fucker, and he knows it - she takes out on of the papers.

"This is the final report of an old case three years ago in Philadelphia. You ever heard of the second Salemers Case? It was all over the news three years ago around christmas."

Graves nods. The memory flashes before his eyes: a news anchor telling something about a religious sect and witch huntings, bird's-eye views from a helicopter on a run-down church, "child abuse", "brainwashing". Police Sirens.  
Graves wants to say something, but decides not to do so. 

"Anyway," Picquery continues and lays the file back on Graves desk, only leaving the report in her hands, "Mary-Lou Barebone was considered the head of the sect, but the names of her three adoptive children were kept a secret. Officials suspected other un-known members to become a thread for them, and there were also the media jumping all around that case."

Oh yeah, the media. Graves gives another understanding nod and a 'mhm', he hates those scavengers. Newt always encourages him to use them for their advantage, but Graves is rather eager to keep it at official annoucements. Stick it to the youngers.  
Meanwhile, his head proceeds the informations. Picquery keeps accent on the children, a new intern. Somehow he doesn't like the direction where this one is going.

"Make your point, Picquery."

For a small moment, his superior officer makes the unamused Phinny-pout, an expression undescribable in any other way. 

"Credence Barebone was 18, when released from his adoptive mother's abusive hands. But you know, why don't you read it yourself." She hands him the report, and this time, Graves accepts it.

The next few minutes he reads about life-long beatings with a 'whip-like' object, presumably a belt, mental abuse through excessive brainwashing, controlling and punishment, malnourishent - a mild shiver runs down his spine. He's seen many things during his career in Law Enforcement, but the mind numbing sensation which is seen in TV Movies of the higher ups is a mere construct in reality. You never really get used to the violence, only better at hiding your horror.

Report lands on his desk.

"I take it, he's the intern?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Allow me one question." He makes a small pause just for the effect and pinches his brow, before going: "What the fuck, Phinny."

The storm doesn't come. For now. He continues to speak, if only to prevent it.

"You are not only giving me a puppy, but a mentaly damaged puppy and a former abusive victim - which is horrible, and I am sorry for the poor kid - but really? This is what I am getting when I am asking for help? I know I won't get more detectives, which is fine, situation right now is on Thesseus for being on leave, but I need someone stable and reliable. Phinny," he overstretches it, he knows, "this - this ain't gonna work. It's a joke." 

Phinny - Picquery, by god, he hopes he didn't make a mistake - looks strangely calm.  
Wordlessly she walks over to the desk, opens the file, looking through different documents.  
"Excellent marks so far in all courses, Irlet Anderson Scholarship on the recommandation of Professor Dr. Henry Shaw, certified strong resilience and commitment to the depratment of Law Enforcement in all psychological tests. As far as I see it," and she closes the file like she just read the final sentence of the bible, "he is the best help I can get you right now."

Graves feels that he's being given an ultimatum. But he resents to go down just like that.

"There's a reason, you started to tell me about the Salem Case BEFORE telling me that he's presumably a... _genius_."

__

The first smile of the day formes on his former classmate. "Yes. To get him on your soft side. After all, you quite are into saving little puppies. Right, Percy?"

__

 

__

Seraphina Picquery leaves his office without a storm. Nevertheless, Percival Graves can feel the unpleasing prickling on his skin, announcing a strong thunderstorm.

__


	2. Puppie's Briefing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played around a bit with numbers and dates and many many online sites about the NYPD to check out ages and possibilities from our lovely characters...   
> Did I ever tell you guys I'm from germany? Well anyway, do you know any good betas from the USA (Best if from New York or somewhere in the state) who can help me with this fiction? Personal Messages appreciated. Or hit me up on tumblr, name's saekorett.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, have fun! Also, Credence doesn't have a bowl cut in this one, give him a pieve of dignity.

Credence nestles around the collar of his shirt just a tad too long. Slowly he puts his hand down again, looking around if no one saw him being this nervous.  
Macusa’s 99th Precinct of the New York City Police Department, located in the borough lovely called “Manhattan’s less attractive little brother”. Not any Office, no, THE Office with one of the best ranking graduates from New York’s Law Enforcement Universities and Colleges and most fearful cops – well, that’s at least what a few wild rumors say.   
Same rumors, who claim it to be ruled, sorry, led by the absolute king, okay sorry again, _Captain_ Percival Graves. The man is a claimed legend in some circles of his university, professors using not a few cases in which he was involved in. But his department is also known for… unusual methods. Bad tongues are whispering that Macusa’s 99th is even prepared to break the law to be successful in a case.   
Of course, Credence doesn’t believe those rumors. He wouldn’t stand here, right in front of the glass door of his dream, if he would.   
No, Credence Barebone is a man ready to learn, to observe, and to form an opinion for himself. He won’t be swayed by such probably-lies (although, god, they really do sound so cool!), and he also isn’t sweating and trembling lightly, gripping the application pressed to his chest so hard his knuckles go white.   
His stomach celebrates the same rollercoaster circus when Deputy Commissioner Picquery suddenly approached him at the end of last semester, asking if he already had ideas for an internship. He had. And he dared to tell her, although it was clear by that time, that Macusa`s 99th doesn’t take interns.  
It’s honestly still a mystery for him, why he’s allowed to stand here, on what is practical holy ground for him. His savior from way back then must have held another blessing hand above him. He’s already neck deep in favors for her.  
“Mr. Barebone?” a soothing voice rips him out of his daydreams of catching bad guys and disbanding illegal gangs and being honored as “man of the Law” by the media – in front of him, a softly smiling lady, with locks shimmering like pure gold.  
“I am Queenie Goldstein, Administrator of the 99th. Nice to meet you.” A manicured hand stretches out to him, he takes it as gently as it’s offered.  
Oh god, she must feel his sweat.  
“No need to feel so nervous darling.”  
Oh yes, she does. Wow, great. Credence is going to jump of the building after that interview. Byebye, Law Enforcement Career, byebye chased robbers and reporters chanting his name in the mass media.   
The beautiful angel in front of him smiles even wider, and bids him inside the office.  
“He won’t eat you up, you know? Captain Graves, I mean. Just think of him as some kind of big bear, all gruffy but with a soft core. Okay?” Credence can feel warm honey drippling down his skin at her voice.

 

_Briefing, just three hours ago._  
“So, we will get a new intern… oh for god’s sake Scamander, put your feet on the ground, this ain’t fuckin’ high school.”  
“Newt!” Porpentina Goldstein presses out in between her teeth, slapping the head of her Detective Partner lightly.   
“It’s better for my concentration!” the young Scamander whines back in a whisper, but Goldstein shushes him down with a killer look.  
“So,” Graves continues, too tired to hold the regular manners speech, they are all on edge these days. “Since we’re still temporarily downsized, we all have our hands pretty busy here. I know how much pressure I am putting on you.”  
Graves watches the blessed faces, which seem to appear every time he says something in that manner.  
“So, Deputy Commissioner Picquery came over on Tuesday, giving us a temporary fill in-“  
“Uh, Sir?” Goldstein’s hand is up.  
“Yes, Detective Goldstein?” Sometimes Graves wants to kill himself for the idea, having two pairs of siblings in his office. Calling them by forenames is a No Go, so at least holding Porpentina and Queenie apart by their respective professions helps, but God forbid the Scamander Brothers being together.  
He hates Thesseus for being on leave the same amount he’s glad for the occurrence.   
Detective Goldstein is clenching her hands and legs together, like the careerist she is. Not that Graves has something against it.  
“Not to disturb you, but shouldn’t we brief about the serial murders first? We’re pressed on time and our information network has just given me-“  
“You mean, MY information network, Tina,” Scamander pipes in.  
Graves prepares to add on the serial murder case.  
Goldstein maybe too. “What?”  
“It was- MY informant, that I carefully groomed to be of use and you-“  
“Carefully groomed my ass, you were nerding out with him about some rare animal bullshit instead of doing work and-“  
Graves clasps his hands together on his front desk and watches into an abyss. He knows, he has the most capable detectives here in his office. He knows it. Talented, strategical thinking geniuses, good teamwork, well mostly good teamwork. But even the best people give up when a mass murderer is running around in the streets, their Lieutenant is temporarily out of service and other departments are just as stuffed with work as them. Maybe it`s even not that worse, but the last few days were horror. They are dancing around deadlines.  
Tribute paying means watching the senseless kindergarten unfold in front of him.  
An Angel stands up, shutting the mouths of his two top detectives with her hands.   
“Let’s hear what Captain Graves has to say, instead of bickering, hm?”  
Oh, Queenie. God bless your heavenly calm soul.  
“Thank you, Queenie.” Did he say, forenames are No-Go? Oh, scratch that. He needs coffee. Shot intravenously directly in his veins.  
“Detective Goldstein. Hold your thought for later. I`ll roll this up quickly.” He holds up Mr. Barebones file.  
“As I said, we’ll get an intern starting today. I am sorry, that I tell you the news this late, but Picquery just came in two days prior.” He still wants to hit himself. _Starting next month_ , yeah, right. Next month has been two days away, when they had talked, Graves just hasn’t processed the info by then.  
“So yes. New intern. Name’s Credence Barebone, University of New York, Criminal Law Student, excellent grades, scholarship, the whole drill. Could do detective’s work, if it wasn’t for his age of 21 and lack of work experience.”   
He lets the file go around.  
“We get a trainee?” It’s less of a question from Calvin Abernathy, who’s looking at him from the last row, holding the file unopened in his hand, where he`s leaning against a table. He tries to look cool and relaxed through it, and Graves must give it to him: it works.  
“Graves, that’s a joke, right? Scamander’s still not back from leave, Sam and Beryl are still in Philly for interrogation, and you’re getting us a _trainee_?”  
Silent eye duel between the Sergeant and the Captain. Win for Abernathy, Graves has to be blatantly serious.  
“You’re right, Abernathy. It’s bull. We’d need an advisor to work him into our affairs, but I can’t see anyone of you doing extra work right now.”  
That’s it, he’s gonna call that off, Phinny’s gonna have to take her puppy on a walk in another office. His hand reaches to take the file back from Abernathy.  
A hand goes up. Queenie chimes in, soft like a cookie. “I could do that.”   
Graves hears his heart cracking.  
“No, Qu- Goldstein, you-“  
“It`s not that hard.” She stands up, and Graves already feels he’ll need to rely on her, even if it breaks his heart. Sometimes he wants to wrap Queenie up and take her back to California in the 70s, where she belongs to, with the best of intent. “Actually, deskwork’s fast to learn, I think I’ll have him used to it in a day or two. If he helps me out, you all benefit from it. Right? I mean, let him do the small stuff for beginners.”  
“It’s not a bad idea, Captain.” Newt undermines her point. “If he’s starting with checking reports and doing research, that should suffice for now.”  
Other voices come in and speak in favor of Queenies idea, to let Credence do what basically is secretary work, and is much under the level of requirement which a student of Mr. Barebone’s ability should be shown in this office.   
Graves feels sorry for a second.  
“Okay.” He`s looking at his detectives, all with bags under their eyes. “Then I`ll leave that to your hands. Scamander, Goldstein, on to the murder. Abernathy, you’re taking over.”

 

Credence is fucking nervous. Right now, he’s standing in formal attire in front of the office of his new temporary boss and partially secret hero, trying not to think about a giant bear gobbling him up. His hair is properly slicked back, although one little strand of hair is falling forward, he wants to put it back, but too late-  
Miss Goldstein already pushes him through the door into the bear’s cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first chapter based solely on the knowledge of tumblr memes on Brooklyn 99. Recently I finally started to watch the show, I am so far 7 Episodes in and I love it! I even watch it in English to get more of the humour. And god how I love those idiots.   
> The second chapter was btw written under the impression of Episode 1 and 2.  
> So yeah, I hope I'll get the feeling better the more far I'll get with this show.
> 
> Kudos and Comments, u know the drill! <3
> 
>  
> 
> Btw, how you feel about Abernathy being called Calvin as his forename? Somehow it fits for me. Tell me in the comments.


	3. Secret Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cheese doesn't exist, don't google it.
> 
> Sorry for the delayed chapter! I was in poland over easter holidays and forgot to give you notice. Forgive me. 
> 
> Sometimes I think the chapters are a bit slow in progress, but I hope you guys forgive me either way. Thank you for all your reviews and kudos by now! It makes me happy to see them every week and it really, really keeps me going! <3

Tina bustles through the room as soon as the new intern disappears in the captain’s office.   
“Oh. My. God.” She breathes out her thought she has been holding in since Credence Barebone has set foot into their police station.   
Queenie smiles up to her from her desk right next to the office room, it’s the typical ‘told you so’ smile. “He`s so _cute_!” Tina can’t withstand clenching her own face with her hands to empathize the feeling in her chest: Credence Barebone is looking like a poodle, although a big poodle, but still, his black hair with the slight curl in front. 

“Okay, Queenie, here`s the plan.”  
“There’s a plan?” Queenie is staring up at her, still same smile and Tina can’t decide if she knows something or if she munched on a pot brownie again. There’s a fifty-fifty chance between those two. 

“It’s the brownie, if you’re asking.”

“How the goddamn _hell_?!” Like a tornado she turns around to see Newt standing there, with his smile plastered over his mouth like a stroke victim. “It`s not pot. Queenie is a responsible” she practically spells the word out, “sister, that has learned to keep her hands off from drugs during work, and how do you even-“  
Newt cuts her off. “There’s crumbles on her documents, her pupils are dilated, and last, she offered me one earlier. Thank you, Queenie. By the way, was that the new intern?” he continues, sitting nonchalantly on Queenies desk, trying to peak through the closed blinds. 

Tina feels the shock of betrayal hanging over her. With a gaping mouth, fuck Newt for now, she looks at her sister. “Where did you GOT those even from?!”  
“Eeeh, from the Dealer we got here an hour ago, seems he still got some in his pockets, uuuh, could you be quiet for a moment? I want to hear what the captains talking with our new buddy.” 

Tina wants to hit Newt for the second cut off, while Queenie only dazedly looks at them both. 

“You won’t hear anything from here, darling. The captain’s made sure he isn’t interrupted in their talk.”

Tina stares at her brilliantly dumb colleague. Oh, she wants to hit this idiot so much. Of course, she’s also interested in what the captains talking with Barebone, but there will be enough time for questions after captain had his turn. But right now, she wants to pay Newt his rude behavior back.

A wicked smile turns on her lips. “I am a ninety percent sure, Captain’s gonna kick him out. I mean you saw him, he’s a puppy, not a detective. He`s not gonna stand longer than a week.”  
“Four weeks Tina, and he`s gonna puke at least once here. I’m betting on Abernathys cheese.” Croque-de-ford, a hazard disguising itself as food and the sergeants favorite snack. He`s only allowed it once a month. Three weeks until the next gas attack on the police station.

“You’re both so rude. I think he’s gonna stay the whole of six months here, and he’s gonna be a good intern.” Queenie chimes in. Her finger pad searches for one of the crumbs, presses it down until it sticks and the finger goes into the mouth. 

Tina gives up lecturing her sister for today. “Why are you even that interested in eavesdropping? We all had that talk when we started here, it’s nothing different.”  
Newt meanwhile looks like some fusilli the way he’s sitting twisted all the way on Queenies desk with his ear pressed to the glass until he hears Tina’s comment. “Uhm- no. That’s exactly where you ARE wrong, and why I am the better detective of us two. Score for me.” 

Tinas hand is just a feeeew centimeters away from his head. Just a few. It could be so easy. Smack and bam, a broken nose against the window of the captain’s office. And then the captain storms out, Newt on the ground with a broken nose and Tina is standing above him laughing and telling that he was to dumb to even eavesdrop-  
“…okay. WHY is it different.” Shit, shit. Shit. Curiosity killed the cat and her whole fucking family and friends.

At least Newt is naïve enough and loves to boast his knowledge. The fusilli turns around back into a straight form. “So, listen to this. We got the file, right? From Credence.”  
“Barebone,” Tina corrects him.

“Yeah, we gonna call him Credence, Barebone sounds like a Pitbull. So, anyway, we got the file. Student report, Credits, Health Check, everything. Now, comes the trick question: who remembers what High School Credence was in?”

Tina tries to remember his résumé, but the picture won’t form in his head.  
Queenie picks up another crumb.

“Boom!” Newts hand comes down, blowing the crumbs away. Queenie looks slightly disappointed. “Because there is none! There is in general no tiniest information about Credence in his years before university, no résumé, no family background nothing. It was missing in the file. And I am sure that the captain kept this thing knowingly from us.”  
His eyes are blinking, waiting for appreciation.

Tina needs to prove she’s just as good as a detective, no, better. “Okay~ Sherlock, but then, riddle me this: The Captain knows, we’re not dumb, so one of us would find out,” more blinking from Newt’s eyes, pointing to himself, “and we would ask him, why he kept the file. And then he would have to give us the missing résumé, right?”

Queenie seems to be over her grief of loosing the last crumbs. “No, he doesn’t. If he wants to keep Credence background a secret, he can do so.”

Tina looks to blinking like New York Airport by Night Newt, Airport by Night looks to Tina. 

“It’s… only fair for us to know.”

“Captain has steady hours where he’s not in the office.”

“You both have more work than you can handle right now. Also, you can be seen from outside the office from here.”

Abernathy stands behind them. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. “Hospital called, seems like Miss Allen woke up. Go and interrogate her. Oh and, Goldenstein,“ he nods to Queenie, “please, stop taking food from strangers. The amount of pot in the one you got could’ve narcotize a zebra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Graves sitting in the inside of his office staring at Newt outside who'S plastered against it.
> 
> This is it. this is the job he pleaded to deal with.  
> What a man.  
> What nerves.
> 
> See you until next time!
> 
> Kudos and Comments please!


	4. Bear's honey || Highasfuckstein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I picture Abernathy being a really neat person around 1, 85m tall.
> 
> Sorry for the late update! I was on holidays over easter, so as an apology you get a double chapter! Yaaay!
> 
> Also, as always, thank you for your kudos and nice comments! 
> 
> Enjoy the next chapter!~

Credence grips his knees so tight, he might crush his own kneecaps. Well, doesn’t matter, as long as Captain Percival Graves won’t notice the tremor shaking his hands.  
The moment, Miss Goldstein pushed him into the office, his heart hammered like a speed drummer, finally, finally he made it to the office of the living legend (well at least in his head. Truth to be told, Credence is good in idolizing people, one story is enough to make him worship a man who’s face he doesn’t even know, although, he knows Captain Graves’ face, and oh my gosh, does he _love_ it), and now he will talk to him and-

Bear. Miss Goldstein’s image is somehow locked into his mind as soon as he seas the scruffy man in front of him. Dropped eyes, a beard that hasn’t seen a razor for weeks as it seems, arm hair twirled in all directions presumably through the constant movement of his shirt sleeves rolled up in a mess. Only the neatly slicked black hair gives an idea from the Captains picture displayed on the official NYPD internet site.

“U- Uhm… Mister- eh, Captain- I’m Sorry, Captain Graves…?” A hot wave of shame over his idiotic mouth stumbling rolls down his back and his inner self slowly deplaces itself outside of his body to give him a ‘bitch, relay?’ look.   
The Captain doesn’t even look up, a hand wave gesturing him to sit down. And now, here is Credence Barebone, throat dry, lips tight, hands shaking, sitting like an idiot in front of the Captain, who seems like someone who has better things to do than interview an intern – let’s be honest. Credence knows, knows pretty well, Macusa 99 doesn’t take interns. He knows a few who tried, but this precinct is one of those who don’t have the time to take newbies around. Macusa might not be Harlem, but it’s not Manhattan either, or some Shittyville out in the neat little suburbans. It’s a troubled, mixed neighborhood with all different kinds of different people, ethnics, religions and problems. Not like there’s big murders every night – but it’s the number of small things that adds up into work. Or, at least, that’s how Credence imagines work here.   
So, back to the fact, Macusa 99 doesn’t take interns, and the fact that Picquery somehow managed to get him an internship nonetheless presses the weight of his responsibility to perform more than decently here down on his shoulders.

“Well, Mr. Barebone. Interesting youth, you had there.”  
Credence shaking stops immediately. The wave rushing down his back now, is ice cold.  
Yes, _of course, he’d ask about this. But why, God, why did it have to be the first question? Couldn’t we have a little bit of small talk before that, oh my god, what am I gonna answer-_

“Uuuh, well. It’s the reason I’m here.”  
Talk, Credence, talk!

“You’re here because you were abused in your childhood?” Never did Credence imagine, that dark eyes could spear him like Captain Graves’ do now. He’s looking at him intently, his poker face wearing no hunch of a smile. Oh god. He, he just wants to end this. This is unfair.

He takes a deep breath, although he doesn’t know what to answer.  
Suddenly the bear’s eyes go wide in realization.  
“Oh, I’m sorry. That was a bit insensitive.” Graves leans back. “We had some hard time past days, although that’s no excuse for my rudeness. Let me rephrase: You had a hard upbringing. What brought you to the decision to become a detective?”

_Oh. He’s nice._ Credence tucks the discovery into his mind, alongside with the apology. He already knows, this is gonna be a good memory.

His brain finds back into interview mode, and the answers that were washed out, are coming back piece by piece. 

“I had a hard past, indeed. And I know it sounds a bit cliched, but it made me wish that I could help other children- uh and people of course, to get them out or to even prevent them from a future, like…. Mine.”  
He straightens his back.

Suddenly it comes to him, that Graves didn’t even say hello, introducing himself, and Credence didn’t too.   
It comes kind of weird to him, but well. What do you know. 

Graves nods to his explanation and Credence feels the first successful smile bubbling up inside him. Good boy. Now keep the level.

“It’s not cliched.” And oh, does Credence love the slight warmth that is hidden in those words. Graves has a low baritone, and the previous mocking now out of his voice, Credence would love for him to just never stop to talk. He might get hooked on the gentleness.  
“It’s totally not cliched,” Graves repeats as he leans forward, “It’s rather a strong motivation. And it shows that our work as the police can encourage people to believe in us. And as I see,” he opens a file, Credence recognizes his own credit report from university, “you worked very hard to achieve your goal.”

“I- I did sir. I mean, thank you, of course. It means a lot to me, that my effort is honored.”

Smile again, oh, _this smile, let me drown in it, let me;_

“I only tell you what I can see. Although, I am interested in one thing, Mr. Barebone: You will see a lot of shit happening here. Macusa isn’t university. I assume you know about the gap of theory and practical experience, but I need people here, who can separate between their emotions and their decisions.”

“I can do that.” It’s the first sentence from Credence, that spoken with confidence and certainty. “I can separate those things. I know you may see my background as a hindrance, but I wouldn’t have come this far as I am if I would determine my life by this. And please, Captain, don’t forget, that I went through police training. I saw many things, and I am still here.”

A pause. 

Then there’s another nod, Graves takes his words in, seemingly approving of his answer. Another big win. Credence already celebrates inside himself.

A few more questions follow, about Credence personal interests, how he pictures his work, where he wants to be in the future, why he chose the 99th.

“Well,” Credence answers, and by now his voice is already smooth and he has his coquettishness back, his strongest trait in his opinion, “I heard many things about the 99th. Also, Macusa is a unique district, there’s a wide range of different cases, I can take my experience from. I want to take as much experience from these six months as possible.”

Graces looks at him for a second. Is this the wrong answer? But the look goes down and Graves is back to soft smile, smooth voice, Credence baths in it.

“Well then. Welcome to Macusa 99th, Mr. Credence Barebone. I’d love to have the time to show you around, but I have a shitload of work as you can see.” He points to the stack of paper and files that frames his desk. “Miss Goldstein will show you everything. She’s our administrator, and we saw it as a good idea, to let her guide you for the first month. Of course, as soon as we get back to a more comfortable rhythm here, you will accompany out detectives to their cases, but right now I must bench you to Queenie.”

Credence thinks, that it’s his honesty, which makes the man, the bear in front of him so utterly adorable. He apologizes, sees his mistakes, is honest with him and treats him with fairness all the while holding his authority, keeping himself in check.  
Credence is glad, he’s in the 99th.  
He’s glad he’s able to work under Captain Graves. 

 

With glowing cheeks, he leaves Captain Graves Office. Miss Goldstein awaits him, with soft questions shimmering in her eyes.

“Still alive I see. So, I take it the bear didn’t gobble you up, right?” 

Well, technically… “Oh, no, no. He didn’t. It was, uh, good. Really good. So. Ahm. Miss Goldstein, right?” _You know her name, dumbass, don’t play coy._

But Miss Fairy from Fairytalestein just keeps smiling.   
“Really good, huh? Well, then, Honey, how about I show you around? Show you the good stuff here? And please, call me Queenie, Goldstein is usually reserved for my sister.”

“Your sister?”

Miss Gol- Queenie nods and her locks wave gently with her head up and down. “Yeah. You know, she’s ambitious, but not honest to her own feelings. On the other side, Newt, or, as staff calls him Scamander jr., is honest with himself, but not good into putting it into words. They make a good pair. Then again, his brother is a very uptight and loyal person, bottling his emotions up. I think it’s kind of a strict parents complex, and each of them celebrates it differently.”

The wall of information hits Credence and he can’t even keep up.   
“You… really are a good psychologist, aren’t you?”

The softness lights up into pure joy.   
Queenie hooks her arm around his, bobbing her head to the side and a heartful “Thank you!” leaves her lips. Credence can feel the glow on his cheeks adding up. Queenie has a wonderful fragrance, and suddenly he has an urgent need for apple pie.

Queenie leads him around the office, showing him every desk and whom he belongs to. She greets the staff, and overall Credence notices one thing, that gives him certainty over Captain Graves’ words: they all look – pardon – like s… well, overworked. 

Same weary eyes, watching their screens, someone passes them by in a rush, throwing them a hands up-

“Abernathy! This is Credence Barebone, our intern!” Queenie stops the man with one hand.

Abernathy is a man not noticeable in size, but Credence gets the feeling the man could be mistaken for being much taller from afar. He gives that aura. Properly combed side parting, which doesn’t fit with his cravat gangling loosely around his neck and the coffee stain on his sleeve, or the slight scruff in his face, but still clothes fancily. Must be a thing here in this office.

“Ah- yeah. Yeah, Mr. Barebone, nice to meet you.” A slightly shaking hand meets his. “Well, you came into total chaos here, not going to lie. Lieutenant Calvin Abernathy, if you need anything, just tell me. Sergeant Scamander is on leave right now, we hope he comes back soon. Goddamn this fucking fire.” His eyes don’t seem able to focus, until he meets Queenies. 

“Queenie, you got message from Thesseus? I can’t get shit out from Newt, he’s like a fucking baby when it’s about his brother.”

Queenie shakes her head, Abernathy just throws his hands down as if he wants to say: _Ah, fuck it._ Then he’s already heading into his previous direction, no goodbye.

Credence, although glad for the offered help, knows exactly that it’s only words; the Lieutenant won’t even have a second for him, he’s one of those people, and, okay, it’s okay, they are under stress. Still, for a moment there’s a blink of uncertainty welling up inside him; was it really a good choice to be here? Silly thought, _go away. You will deal with your choices._

“Don’t worry, they are really nice people. You just came into a down time. But there will be up times to!” She gives him a thumbs up, looking at him, and in that moment he realizes, her pupils blown wide and the slight red tinge around her eyes.

“Uh… Queenie?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Your… eyes. Is everything okay?”

Queenie’s mouth forms a slight ‘Oh.’

“Oh yes. I’m just high. Okay, let’s go, I show you to my desk, which is also gonna be your desk! Oh, I’m so excited!”

Credence looks at Fairy Highasfuckstein, as his reaction is stuck in his throat. And again, he asks himself, if this was a good idea. But then he decides to follow this weird, soft, lovely person; he yet has to get into the rhythm in which this precinct plays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The office has one rule: No matter how shitty you look, the hair must be neat.   
> It's my personal revenge against Credence bowl cut in the movies.
> 
> btw, are you as excited as me for the second part?! Hallelujah!
> 
> Also, if anyone of you has the chance to visit a Sons of an illustrous father concert, please snap me some pics! Thank you!


	5. An old Couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to write a blowjob scene, where Credence blows Graves under his desk and Tina comes in, losing every fate she believed in.
> 
> Please remind me of that later on in the story.
> 
> (Is that already spoilering? Oh my, you lot already know where this will be going and honestly, I don't have the heart to make this tragic. ((Yet)))
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy, and as always: THANK YOU FOR YOU COMMENTS YOU MAKE ME LIVIN!!!! <3<3<3<3

„Miss Allen? My name is Detective Goldstein, this is Detective Sca- Newt!”  
Newt looks up from the infusion tube he was seemingly playing with seconds before.  
Tina’s hand already twitches. There aren’t enough hands in the whole wide world to give Newt the amount of back head slapping he deserves sometimes.  
Directing the useless idiot with another ‘I am so going to kill you’ look back to one of the victims of last months arson crime, she brings back her professional caring smile.

“So, Miss Allen,” she adjusts her voice for more softness, she needs those infos!, “we need to speak to you about the night when the fire broke out in Rockwood’s. Are you able to communicate with us?”

Miss Serena Allen, a black woman of 24 years is nodding as good as she can in her hospital bed. The infusion machine beeps along. “I’ll try my best.” Her raspy voice sounds weak, but Tina hopes it will last for a few minutes, they have around 30 more suspects and witnesses to interrogate, and she’s working on concentrated doses of caffeine.

Block out, Pen ready. “So, Miss Allen, on the evening of August 21st, you were engaged as a singer in Rockwood’s Ba-“  
“What do you get in those tubes? Infusions?” Newt’s interrupting makes Tina see almost red. She is used to handle his antics on the outside, but on the inside, every little fiasco he creates makes her want to strangle him. All the more, because she knows how sweet Newt can be, if only he wouldn’t always get in the line of her work and make her seem like a sore loser.

Miss Allen seems thrown out by the question but gathers herself again. “It’s something against the pain, I guess… My leg still hurts and my side, where the fire got me.” She turns her head more towards their side, where Newt and Tina are sitting next to her head, and her smile is slightly distorted. And Tina notices the scarred skin on the left side of her face.

“You were burned pretty badly, Miss Allen.” Newt continues.  
_That`s insensitive, Newt!_ Tina wants to scream.  
And Miss Allen gives another nod. “I want to tell myself, that it’s okay, it’s alright. But, my career, I… I just don’t know. I mean, who wants a singer, and on top a black singer with scars, I mean- you maybe don’t… well it’s just…”  
“It’s harder as a black singer. Moreover, one with scars over the whole body. Looks play a role in your business, right?” 

Tina is fascinated how Newt just pushes deeper into Serena Allen’s wounds with his words, instead of asking her the important questions, and even going as far as cutting her out of the interrogation. 

“You must’ve gone through very hard times,” she plays along the game, before coming to topic, “which is why it’s so important, that you could tell us exactly, why you were there and what exactly happened.”

Newt looks to her, as if he wants to say something, but Tina shuts him clearly down. _One more word, and I am going to strangle you right now and here with one of the infusion cables._

“Well, what happened…. It’s all a bit hazy, you know. I remember mostly screams… and that unbearable heatwave that came crashing down.” Still, Serena Allen starts to recollect the evening in Rockwood’s bar, a modern jazzy establishment in Macusa, where a fire broke out on the first floor above the bar, killing 3 people and injuring over 20 other people gravely.

 

 

The weather outside is that of a moldy autumn midday. Tina rushes behind Newt, who`s already at the car.

“Newt! What the hell was that?!” Tina doesn’t care that she’s nearly creating a scene on the parking lot of the hospital, Newt has performed much worse just minutes before. 

“What do you mean?” Newt looks up from his side of the car, opening the door, sitting inside. Tina follows him on the passenger’s seat, still fuming.

“You cut me off! And you were so insensitive! Her wounds were, my god, her wounds! You don’t just ask about that Newt.”

A second’s silence later, Newt answers.  
“It wasn’t insensitive. She was in pain, and she felt horrible. You just barged in without really seeing her.”

“I didn’t barge in!”

“You did! ‘Hello, I am Detective Goldstein, tell me everything you know so I can go hunt bad guys and not give two shits about you!’”

“I am NOT like that.”

“You were.”

“Oh? And how about you? ‘Hello, my name is Detective Scamander and I give a fuck on my partner, and what is even cooperation, look at me doing everything alone.’”

Another few seconds of staring at each other go by.

“Well, but I could have done it alone.”

Tina grabs her head, she’s too old for this and to explain Newt the principles of cooperation in police work. She does either way.

“Newt, we are a team, we do this together. You and me.” She gestures between them as Newt starts the engine to drive to the next witness. She wants to further her arguments, when she feels her tiredness washing over her.  
“I mean you can do it alone. Fine. Of course. You know what, just drop me at the department and drive alone to Mr. Allende, I am out.” She regrets her words the minute she says them, she’s not a better example right now.

“You really want to get out?” Newt asks.

“…. No.” 

On Newt’s lips appears the little smirk that Tina might really, really love. Not that she would tell anyone on a million years. Not even Queenie.

 

 

 

“Queenie?” 

“Yes, honey?”

“Could you, please, stop calling me honey? I mean I, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but… uh…”

Queenie watches her little honey squirming a bit beside her, while teaching him basic administration, computer programs and file work. Credence is talented in those things, as expected from his generation, and Queenie delights in the new possibilities her little right hand will give her. She might finally redecorate the office with the lovely little flowers she passes by every morning, primroses in all different colors.

She could bake a cake for everyone, or even ask Jakob. She could manage a sleeping schedule for everyone. The whole bunch isn’t getting enough, and it isn’t exactly productive for work. Just yesterday Abernathy spilled his coffee over a whole stack of criminal reports, needing them to be filled out anew.

“Then I’ll have to name you something different, sweetie.”

Credence rolls his eyeballs. They got comfortable pretty quickly with each other, and Queenie has a feeling that Credence will bring big changes with him into their office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is thinking that I taylored the characters around B99's charakters: you're right. Sometimes I feel like a blacksmith forging a new sword from two old swords.
> 
> Also, Credence covered in honey. Yes? Yes.
> 
> Keep up for next week!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a kudo, a comment, and the joy of waiting for the next episode!
> 
> Will update weekly. Expect you to kick my ass to do so.


End file.
